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Eleven hours, forty-six minutes, and ten seconds to go. That was what Cherno counted when he took his fifth glance at the clock in the last minute. Those sixty seconds seemed to stretch on for hours, as he stared, dazed, at the pages of an open biology textbook that might as well have been written in a different language entirely. The words swirled before his eyes, blending into a black and white blur as if the ink was leaking from the pages, and all the while he was feeling a distinct increase in pressure around his chest and head. It was something like a headache, or just general tension, no doubt brought about by the constant anxious flex of his muscles while he considered the undeniable possibility that he might very well fail tomorrow's test.

His eyes were starting to cross, keeping him from reading a single word more. He'd been up since early morning, barely even remembering to feed himself, and the marathon of a cramming session was starting to manifest itself in the form of heavy eyes and wandering thoughts. It would have been so easy to just lay back and rest for a little while. He had to think he deserved it, even if he'd mostly failed to grasp what he was supposed to be reviewing for tomorrow. At least he had tried. The light was hurting him, and he felt a compelling urge to simply flick off the lamp and sit there in complete darkness for a while. Sleep would have been a bad idea, but maybe if he was careful he could stay awake, and simply slip into low power mode, like he was a computer or something. Some might have called that meditation, but his thoughts were always too jumbled and intrusive to achieve such a state when he tried.

He didn't even notice he was nodding off until he jerked back awake. Something was dripping. It wasn't like a distant leaking tap, but rather something right in his own bedroom. There was no need to look for the source, when he soon saw a heavy drop of something leaking from the ceiling, splashing into a dark puddle below he had only just noticed then. It wasn't water. The light caught some violet highlights in the thick substance, but mostly it was black. Coming with it was a damp smell like a pen had exploded somewhere, a sharp scent that wasn't immediately unpleasant, but certainly hard to ignore. He found himself clutching his textbook close to his chest as he watched the conspicuous puddle spreading across his bedroom floor, as if the hard cover might serve as some sort of protection from whatever it was.

He thought it must have been some sort of dangerous chemical leak, something dripping from a broken pipe in the ceiling above him. That made the most sense, until he heard it speak.

"You've been working so hard. Don't you think you deserve a break?"

The voice was flat and almost completely toneless. Cherno couldn't detect any sort of accent, each word pronounced with a precise, rehearsed pronunciation, the meaning of each irrelevant. It might have sounded like a robot, if not for the warmth of it. There was something comforting about its gentle nature, enough to leave him with an immediate sense of relief, like he'd just slipped beneath the surface of a steaming but not-too-hot bath. The momentary panic of having an intruder in his bedroom was overwritten by that soothing feeling, ensuring his reply was much calmer than it probably should have been.

"Who's there?"

"A friend, or I hope we can be. Someone who has seen all your effort, and knows how important it is for you to relax. You have more than earned it."

Cherno blinked, and then gave the back of his head a few rubs. The stress was getting to him. He was clearly hallucinating, and he doubted it was the best idea to hold a conversation with the voices in his head. Looking away from the accumulating inky puddle, he stared instead at the blank wall beside him for a while, telling himself that when he looked again it would all be gone, and he'd be alone once more. Instead, it was growing bigger, spreading across his floor, and starting to bubble. It gurgled and splurched with activity, yet even for all its strangeness, Cherno's prey instincts weren't triggering. Even his deepest, more deerish side told him he was safe. It might have been something to do with the humid scent running through the room, one that reminded him of warmer, partly faded memories, filling him with a sense of wholesome nostalgia.

As abnormal as the circumstances might have been, the most reasonable response felt like simply explaining the situation.

"I can't rest now. I have a big test tomorrow morning."

The voice was neither firm nor pushy, but it was still as toneless as before.

"You are burning yourself out. It is important to take care of yourself. Or better yet, to let someone else take care of you. I would be happy to help."

Cherno shifted on the bed, setting aside his textbook as he pulled his knees up near his chest.

"How do you know how hard I've been working?" he blurted, his tone accusatory. "Have you been watching me?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Who are you, though? Where are you hiding? Show yourself!"

"One moment."

The wet noise grew more intense as the spreading puddle came to something like a boil. It was bubbling rapidly while its tendrils spread out across the floor, winding back and forth like twisted roots. Such a comparison didn't quite work when the whole thing seemed far from natural. So too did the featureless figure who began to slowly emerge from below as if rising from a pool. It was smooth and vaguely resembled a person at first, but there were too many arms. Cherno couldn't even focus on them all, growing or shrinking, bursting forth as if to stretch out and grab him, only to recoil and slide with disturbing eroticism down a silken, sinfully slick body that hadn't even fully formed. It was neutral, sexless, faceless, but every moment made it a little more distinct. The longer he stared, the more it resembled someone. And they were a very large someone, towering to the point they had to hunch beneath the ceiling, and so broad they couldn't even have fit through the doorway.

Eventually he was left looking at a hulking figure, one rippling with masculine muscle once it all came into shape, eyeless and toothy. It looked every bit as solid as it did liquid, dripping down to the floor, additional limbs and other features dripping from him like heavy raindrops, splatting to the puddle below and reabsorbed as if it couldn't quite make up its mind on what to look like. None of it seemed to ever stay still, writhing and shifting, swelling and bubbling like a boiling fluid. It all made for a tremendous amount of goopy, slimy noise, something he couldn't help but find exceptionally lewd even if that wasn't the intent.

All that Cherno knew for sure was that he was soon staring at the intimidating bulk of a slimy, inky monster, a leechlike beast with horrifying crimson teeth. They weren't stained or anything. They were simply like that. Similar were the many needle-like spikes extending from his back, almost porcupine-like though not as plentiful. They dripped slime like the rest of him, drawing inky lines upon the ceiling where they scraped against it. And while he couldn't read the expression of something without eyes to know whether its intentions were hostile or not, he could somehow still tell it was staring right at him.

He - a word that seemed more appropriate than 'it' given his voice and the overtly masculine structure to his gooey body - didn't move his mouth when speaking. The words simply emanated from within, the creature's dripping body making slick, squelching noises at his slightest movement.

"I understand that asking you not to be afraid might sound like a joke right now, but I assure you I am not here to hurt you in any way."

Cherno blinked rapidly, then clenched his eyes shut tight. When he opened them, it was forcefully, as he tried to wake himself from the dream he must have been having. Why wasn't he afraid? It didn't feel right, to sit there in the presence of an inexplicable, otherworldly monster without going into flighty panic mode. It wasn't bravery. Something simply felt right about the strange entity's presence, and that was what worried him.

"Just ... just what exactly are you?"

Did he smile? Or were those jagged teeth, like those of a metal trap more so than a living creature forming into a deadly snarl, ready to tear him to shreds despite his calmly-voiced reassurances?

"The best explanation would likely be as simple as 'an alien.' I call myself Quill."

"Right." He was still squirming in place, still holding himself in a defensive position. "And what do you want from me, exactly?"

Quill came a little closer. He didn't step, he merely slid, gliding along the floor on the surface of his inky slime. It stained everything it touched, leaving dark marks that Cherno didn't want to think about cleaning.

"I will speak bluntly. I can offer you the most intense, pleasurable experience of your entire life. All your fatigue, your stress, the fog that lies within your mind, it will all be gone when I'm done. A perfectly content, fresh new you, ready to ace your test, and everything else life might throw at you, cruel as it can be."

Cherno's heart was beating surprisingly slowly up until then, when he felt it quickening. He bit his lower lip, watching the creature, the actual living alien monster presumably from outer space, as it loomed there, patiently awaiting his response. Most of Quill's amorphous body had settled on a consistent shape, an intimidatingly stocky, muscular build that seemed almost excessive, but he wasn't entirely dormant. The goo was still shifting, still oozing and changing with every moment. Sometimes he had just two massive arms, sometimes he had several more, reaching out from his body, stroking along his own muscles, seeming to embody such an indulgent and erotic energy Cherno couldn't even claim to have fully understood. He found himself thinking, what could be the harm? Quill echoed those thoughts as soon as they formed.

"I want to do this for you, because you have earned it. All through the year, you've worked harder than ever before, and never let yourself simply have a moment to recover. You need it. I know that much."

Cherno stared. Quill looked something like a leech from the abyss. Trusting him, only to have things go wrong, would have been so predictable it wrapped right back around to unlikely in his head. He couldn't tell if Quill was drooling, or just oozing from his open jaws, as he watched a snakelike tongue writhing and whipping back and forth in what looked like anticipation. He wanted to know what would happen, badly. The curiosity would have nearly killed him if he fled or refused the offer, even if he knew he logically shouldn't have considered it for a moment.

"What do I need to do?" he asked, with a sigh of shame. He knew he shouldn't have, but maybe Quill was right. Just this one little indulgence ...

"Nothing at all. That is exactly the point of such a proposition."

Quill swept in, pressing his inky bulk against the deer's body, and in a moment, all was dark. Cherno felt himself going under the wave, slipping right through the semi-solid muscles, instantly immersed in a humid dampness that stuck to every single facet of his body. He hadn't exactly said yes, but he wasn't resisting. Even as he was submerged in the tidal wave of potent goo, he wasn't feeling any distress. His brain simply let him go, let him fall into the embrace that was overtaking him from every angle, leaving him plastered to his own bed, encased from head to hooves in a sweetly smothering slime, pinned down by the weight and immobilized. Yet none of it seemed forceful. He wasn't being overpowered, merely held, and taken, subjected to a sultry treatment by a creature who seemed to know his body better than he did.

He felt touches over his every inch. The slime was shifting, forming a hundred little fingers, every single one of them touching him in ways he had never been touched. It was like going for a professional massage, except it was everywhere, all at once, digging into his muscles, loosening them in ways as to make him feel like he was capable of anything. He was weightless, painless, floating there in a gooey embrace that blotted out his vision. There were only those unidentifiable scents, those inky splishes and splorches, and the constant grinding rub of tendrils dancing over his body, tending to every single pressure point he had, as if the creature already knew everything about him, and how to make him feel good.

Cherno found his body reacting in unexpected ways. He couldn't control any of it. His fingers were splaying out, his legs were twitching and straightening out. Being immersed in inky slime didn't prevent him from drawing in a long, lingering breath through his nose, holding it a while with his back arched, and sighing out through his mouth afterwards. He was refreshed and rejuvenated in seconds beneath the oozing blanket of warmth and comfort that was Quill himself, his thoughts flowing freely and unimpeded by all the stress that had accumulated inside of him. There was a distinct sensation of it melting away, like ice cubes on a hot plate, pouring out of him while he basked in that clinging bodysuit of slime. It was clinging to every single inch of him, encasing even his antlers and his hooves, but it was neither suffocating nor confining. He wasn't sure if he could still move, since he wasn't trying. Nothing about that moment made him feel like he needed to.

Then came the pleasure. It wasn't immediately sexual, though it was at least as good as orgasm. First it was an electric spark his scalp, something that started right where his hair parted and crackled out from there. He felt it spreading like forked lightning, tantalizing his nerves, stimulating him like it was a sweet syrup being poured from a bottle. It ran down his neck, his shoulders, his spine, hitting him with a direct, concentrated dose of pleasure that felt so oddly forbidden. He was supposed to earn pleasure, not to simply indulge in it all at once, and feeling it grasping his body to the point of making him convulse was almost a frightful experience. Except, he trusted Quill, for some reason. No one would make him feel that good for malicious reasons.

The glowing sensation continued spreading until Cherno was uttering meaningless syllables with a trembling voice. He was shuddering, falling locked into a frozen trance, his expression stuck in place with his eyes shut tight and his mouth hanging open. His tongue slowly flopped over his bottom lip, limp and dripping, but the saliva had nowhere to go, all soaked up by the slime that washed like waves over his blissful body. He could feel it staining him, too. Even amidst the singing pleasure, driving him to such a state he felt he needed to scream, but his mouth was busy with that silent moan. He likely had no capacity or strength to do anything so drastic anyway. That inky mark was soaking deeply into his fur and skin, dyeing him an enticing purple-black, marking him as Quill's own as surely as if tattooing him. Yet there was nothing openly possessive about the way he was savouring the buck's body, tenderly caressing him even as he sent direct zaps of unfiltered ecstasy straight to his brain. Cherno felt much more adored than taken or claimed.

When the creeping pleasure reached his dormant, ink-stained balls and sheath, he was instantly aroused. There was no buildup, no gradual growing of his cock. He didn't even know his body could work that quickly, but there he was, getting the bare skin of his pumping shaft coated in Quill's clinging slime, stained as dark as the rest of him while he spurted pre in hefty gobs into the ooze that was the alien. It was far too swift for him, lurching him into full lust in such a short moment it almost gave him whiplash, but anything unpleasant about it was melted away along with all the other worries. He didn't cum, though he felt like if he could have easily done so if he could just reach his shaft for a single moment. One little brush against it, one squeeze, and he'd have been erupting, but instead he was left dwelling and peaking, caught up in what felt exactly like climax, but it never ended. The sounds coming out of them by then weren't even parts of words anymore.

He had never for a moment felt like he was drowning or suffocated in all that inky goo, yet when Quill withdrew from him, freeing him from that goopy embrace, Cherno found himself gasping. It wasn't that he was out of breath, but rather just overwhelmed by going under for so long. His brain was still surging with fiery sensations, the occasional spark still igniting, making him jerk his whole body upwards, thrusting into the air. His vision came back in time, though slightly blurred, and he held his hands out in front of his face to witness the ink strains for himself. Quill was looming over him, his lower body a formless mass amid the puddle, but his upper half was still burly and bulky. He might have been smiling. It was hard to really tell, though his voice wasn't nearly as toneless as before. He sounded more enthusiastic, more excited, and Cherno couldn't help but notice he pronounced a few things exactly like he did.

"Does that feel better? We are still only starting. I am beginning to understand you now. This will help me pleasure you better as we progress. I can sense what you need most."

Cherno felt his tongue flopping up and down along with the movement of his nod. His eyes were crossed, blurring the image of the slime-leech above him, obscuring his specific details. They were always changing, anyway. Quill stood back up to his full height, hunching as the spikes on his back and head dragged against the ceiling, staining and scratching it at once. Cherno could still make out his muscular form, built like a titan, like an ideal that no one could even truly hope of achieving. He thought about how good it would feel to be wrapped up in those muscled arms, held close to that gleaming chest, and the moment that image formed in his head, Quill was picking him up in the grip of two hands. It soon became four, and then six, each new limb smaller than the ones before, seamlessly forming from his belly without any apparent reduction in his mass. Cherno was soon granted his wish, feeling the squishy but otherwise unyielding muscle of the alien's body against him while those many hands roamed around his form, groping and massaging him all over. He felt fingers pressing into his shoulders, running down his back, and taking great big palmfuls of his backside. Simply being admired like that made him feel so much curvier, so much more attractive, the desire he could feel in those half-dozen groping hands evident with their every squeeze.

Of course, he was still aroused to the point of bursting, and Quill didn't neglect him. Where before, he'd been neutral, showing no sort of external genitalia, that soon changed. Perhaps it was always there, or perhaps he had formed it just then out of his shapeshifting slime, but either way he was soon sporting a thick cock, as firm and solid as the deer's own, pushing up near the base of his short tail before sliding slickly downwards. The inky coating over its turgid inches ensured it could slide in smoothly, and the toothy beast didn't hesitate to wetly penetrate the rutting buck. Cherno shook and thrust his hips upwards, hardly in control of his own thoroughly-relaxed muscles any longer, flying into an instantly bleating, broken state while his got his insides stained.

Quill's voice continued growing in tone, finding an intensity and excitement that greatly contrasted his own introduction.

"It took me some time to properly understand the appeal of this. My body does not work quite like yours does. But I now I am very much convinced, and I will tell you honestly." He leaned in close, dropping his voice to a sultry hum. "I have been wanting to fuck you, Cherno. Lusting for you. Nothing would please me more than feeling you cum for me. Your cute ass feels wonderful around my cock."

The unexpected lewdness to his words was almost startling, but in such a way that Cherno was left shuddering pleasantly, especially when he felt that goo running down the back of his neck, drooling from the monster's jaws. He couldn't manage to respond with more than a breathy grunt, and a whimper.

"Nnnh ..."

Quill licked his cheek, his tongue curling in such bizarre ways to make even that small gesture one that seemed intensely sexual.

"There is no need for you to speak. I am going to pleasure you until your every need is fulfilled. You are a precious little doe and I am going to fill your belly with my seed. I have had so many thoughts of cumming in your tight butt ever since first observing you."

At first that cock was largely featureless, an uncut shape that slid smoothly inside of him like any other. Cherno felt a pair of plump balls tapping against his ass, producing a little splash that flung their inky coating all over his fur, an unnoticeable contribution to his already thoroughly blackened hide. Once Quill bottomed out inside of him, he made a few adjustments. First, his cock swelled out, thicker at the base, forming into what felt like a swollen knot, though it wasn't quite large enough to lock them together. Rather than a pointed tip, it became flat, flaring out, showing off an equine shape that went along with the whole thing growing larger. There were ridges, bumps, nubs like a feline's barbs, and all of it seemed to designed to stuff him and pleasure him in exactly the right places. The textured base just above that bulging knot stimulated his prostate in such a way that he could feel the resulting pleasure all the way down to his hooves. When he tried to moan for the generous xeno, his voice was completely silent.

His mouth was hanging open, so Quill went ahead and let him suck on one of those slimy fingers. He'd already tasted that slime before, but it was different this time. Where before it had been a watery, slightly inky taste, now it was more enticing, a warming flavour that reminded him of pleasant days. He recalled favourite desserts, or basking by a campfire, or other fond memories of his he hadn't bothered thinking about in a while. Yet even as he sucked and reminisced, he couldn't actually place the flavour itself, nor even describe it. Succulent, yet not exactly sweet, nor any other identifiable taste that would have served to help him understand why he couldn't stop sucking on that single dripping digit. It was simply alien, and that was enough.

Quill was still fucking him with that perfectly-crafted cock, his pace slow and deliberate. Every thrust was sending waves of satisfaction through Cherno's entire body. He felt like his insides were being rearranged by that pumping girth, yet never in an unpleasant way. As overtaken as he was, his arms dangling limply at his sides while those many hands touched and admired his clenching or twitching muscles, nothing hurt nor overwhelmed him, even as things got rougher. Quill used a long, trunk-like tail to balance himself for pounding that fine booty, splurching with each heavy smack of his glistening sack against the buck's butt. Those nuts of his were growing bigger, and not from shapeshifting. They were swelling out with a sloshing load, jostling as they expanded to an obscene size. It wasn't long before Cherno was getting spanked by two fattened orbs the size of grapefruits, or larger, feeling them clenching and throbbing as they smacked his ass.

"Delicious, exquisite ... such a treat you are. So delicately fuckable." Quill's voice itself felt warm on his neck, or maybe that was just his tongue. He could slurp him even while speaking to him. "You are everything I had imagined you to be. There was nothing as sweet as you where I come from."

Cherno couldn't tell if the creature was moaning or simply humming. His voice was full of bass as it rumbled from within him, and he enjoyed the vibrations along with everything else he was feeling. He remained there, dangling, his legs flinging upwards with every thundering slam inside him. Just as those balls of Quill's were swelling, so too was his cock. The knot grew fatter, the flare wider, and those many ridges and features only firmed up the more, digging hard against all of the most sensitive places, until Cherno clenching down as hard as he could. It wasn't voluntary as he rocketed towards the orgasm he needed. Even swimming in what felt like a constant peak for so long couldn't have possibly prepared him for what his body did next.

Explosive was an understatement, and Cherno's cumshot came so hard it felt dangerously destructive. There was no way he could have even produced that much seed in so short a time. It was a dozen orgasms, all at once, at the least, resulting in him painting down those inky muscles with so much deer cum he swore he could have filled a bathtub. It just kept coming, flowing through his bulging azure cock, making engorging it to the point of stretching with the rounded bulges of each shot. He felt as if he were falling, blasted back by the force of his own ejaculation, but Quill remained firm in holding him, keeping him right in place with that perfectly-customized dick shoved up inside of him, rutting him through such an intense experience he forgot what words meant. His inner narrative fell silent, blanked out by rapturous bliss, and of course he was drooling afterwards.

The smile frozen on his face went along his glazed eyes to at least begin to describe how good he was feeling. He hadn't softened, and just when he thought it was ending he felt the heated touch of the alien finally emptying those bloated nuts inside of him. It rushed up hard, accompanied in contrast by an unfittingly controlled groan from the xeno. It was more like a sigh than anything, a great understatement while he filled the buck to brimming and bloated with his own exotic cum. It splatted back outwards, running down Cherno's legs, stark white and creamy despite Quill's inky black appearance. Just like any other cum, yet so much thicker, smoother, feeling velvety as it shot up into his insides, leaving him stretching with the weight of it all, his belly rounding out against the monster's taut middle while all the cum he'd shot upon his muscles slowly sunk down into the ooze it dripped from, absorbed with a resounding schlorp.

They finished together, trickling down in such perfect unison it was slightly strange, and all at once, Cherno was limp. He couldn't even hold his head up, slumping backwards for a moment, but Quill took hold of him. It wasn't with his many hands any longer, but rather with more featureless tentacles. They were so delightfully smooth, a silky pleasure wherever they caressed against Cherno's body, and he soon found himself dangling there in the grasp of them as they sprang effortlessly forth from Quill's form. They supported him and stretched him, leaving him in a vulnerable X, wrapped from wrists to shoulders, ankles to thighs. He even could feel them curled around his antlers, immersing those many points, almost seeming to suck upon them. As much as he was exposed, bare and swollen before the creature, he still felt no hostile intent from Quill. Even when he announced his next intention.

"You have a good mind and body alike. The world could benefit from more of you. What if you were to let me breed you? Would you agree you would look sublime with a swollen, knocked-up belly, fucked and mated like the sultry doe you are?"

He asked it as if he already knew the answer. Cherno was in no state to disagree, nor really to agree either, but he put in the effort. His head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, but with enough willpower he managed to raise it up just enough to nod a few times. In exercising that focus, briefly breaking from his pleasure-paralyzed state, he caught an odd glimpse of the oozing monster from another angle. It wasn't like he hadn't noticed those teeth, but for that partial second they looked so much sharper, so much more dangerous than before. One chomp, and they could have easily maimed him, perhaps snipped him in two like scissors through paper. The thought was gone as quickly as it began, a brief observation he soon mentally filed away as unimportant while those tentacles began to rearrange him into whatever was the proper position to be impregnated by an alien.

It turned out that was stretched out and bent over, his arms stretched high above his head. He looked like he was in the stocks, or some sort of bondage device, but it was only tentacles, effortlessly supporting his weight to the point he felt as if he were merely floating. There was no strain, no sag, no wobble. Quill kept him precisely in place for the process, while several wiggling tips smeared and spurted along his back. Every single tentacle was engorged and throbbing, their phallic nature evident as they leaked that enticing pre all over Cherno's stained fur. He felt one creeping up along his cheek, then swiping across his entire face, hitting him with that continuously mystifying scent, and then a taste to go with it as it pushed sweetly past his lips and rubbed hard against his tongue. It was as juicy as a delicious fruit, the fluids running down his chin as he sucked it, letting it slip deep and pulse its way into his throat without so much as making him flinch. His gag reflex was completely absent as he got facefucked by that fat, oozing tentacle, moaning as he sucked upon it, eager to get as much as its succulent nectar as he possibly could.

Another of course was spreading out his well-fucked hole, moving with such precision as to tug his rim a little wider, the firmed tip applying a thorough coating of white fluid as it teased him. Then it was burrowing forward, wriggling and flexing. There was something so organic about the way it throbbed, bulging out there inside him every time it spurted a thin shot of what was more or less pre. He could feel the pleasure Quill was experiencing, radiating back and forth between the two of them with every pulse. He was getting rutted hard in seconds from both ends, those tentacles bending and coiling before springing forth, plunging into his body so deeply they didn't even take long to meet after squelching through his insides for a while. They were in his belly, visibly moving around beneath his fur and skin as he got fucked by the otherworldly stud.

Two tentacles wasn't enough. He was already feeling his mind melting, breaking down and running completely empty but for the ability to perceive, but there was more pleasure to give. He felt the room vanishing around him, as if he were merely floating in space with the beast as Quill continued to show his generosity, pressing one spare appendage right up against the deer's taint, massaging his prostate from the outside and inside all at once. Another, he wrapped around Cherno's cock, massaging it with a grip as tight as a coiling serpent for a while, teasing at the tip before finally just spreading out his cumslit and plunging inwards. Such a thing might have been shocking in a normal state, but the deer was far from that, his every single muscle under the alien's control, his experience nothing but pleasure, radiating so thoroughly through his body he felt as if every single part of him were cumming. Even such mundane things as his spine, his ribs, his brow, his shoulders - parts of his body not usually part of the sexual experience, they were all ignited with that forbidden pleasure, that unadulterated elixir of euphoria that threatened to wipe away his sentience if it lingered for too long.

They were getting bigger. The tentacles were already swollen, lewdly engorged with their potent load, but they expanded with every pump and stroke. Quill's voice was as low and steady as ever, but Cherno swore he could hear the pleasure in it, listening to the alien humming him a song as he fucked him. Or was he singing, and he merely didn't know the words? He couldn't even remember the words for simple things any longer. Even running his own name back through his head didn't seem right. Cher-no? No, that couldn't have been it. It was the name of a stranger, unfamiliar and foreign to him. He was nothing but the inky monster's breeding bitch, his looming test long since forgotten as he got his body broken by the exotic pleasures not meant for his mundane self.

He knew as soon as they were spurting that he was being bred. They gave a few warning shots to so speak, jumping within his body as if startled, filling him with thinner jets that preceded the mess to come. Then it was pouring out, a vast cascade of fluid that was soon clinging to his insides. It was almost like regular cum, but there was still something different about the texture. It was simply too pleasant, too perfectly warm and silky, as if it was massaging his insides as it flowed towards his stomach. Quill came down Cherno's cock too, filling his balls to a sagging, rounded state, more than doubled in size by the bursts surging down his bulging shaft by the time that he was done. And even when he'd left the deer with a massive gut of cum, rounding him out like a balloon, his skin taut and stretched to its limits, he still wasn't fully finished seeding him. Each tentacle pulled out one by one, popping with a splurching gush, letting torrents of alien cum fall to the floor, and then began to hose him down as thoroughly as if he were caught up in a musky car wash.

Quill even turned him over to ensure the coating was thorough. Cherno was completely soaked by those blasting shots, listening to the sinful splashes of all that seed. Some of it dribbled from him, but the rest seemed almost to absorb directly into his skin. It made him feel softer, silkier, like he'd just received some sort of spa treatment. He was completely dyed black by then, showing some violet highlights when he caught the light just so. The perfectly enticing scent Quill had was ever-present, tinged to something more raunchy and indulgent thanks to all the cum. Cherno felt like a stalling engine, coming close to relative coherence only to fall back down to babbling, murmuring nonsense as he drooled for the toothy monster, his body utterly demolished and unable to do anything but tingle. His mind was empty, but it was only growing emptier as the sloshing warmth within him grew into squirming.

"That's a good girl." The words might have been teasing, but Quill sounded entirely affectionate. He let Cherno down slowly, still holding onto him, but more loosely, squeezing and rubbing at his shoulders and his belly alike, wrapping him up in the binding grasp of half a dozen hands once more. "Let it grow within you. You make such a good breeding bitch."

Not even calling him a bitch came off as mocking or condescending. It was more Quill just said it because he thought Cherno might like it. The deer could already feel something moving inside of him. It was featureless at first, a tiny ball that grew within his cum-filled gut, but it was soon twitching and then writhing as it grew. Its development was rapid, and Cherno could do nothing but dangle there as he awaited the results of their interspecies breeding. His belly was already bulging and jostling with his every heaving breath, but it was doing more than that. It jumped from left to right, up and down, the thing inside him growing more distinct, more energetic as it increased in size. He was beginning to feel like he'd swallowed a basketball, though even full as he was, the pressure was never painful. There was odd pleasure in feeling himself stretch, a euphoria glow that came with being so swollen with Quill's offspring, an incapacitated little breeding drone for the fearsome xeno. It was just like in the movies, but so much kinder. He wish he could recall what they were called.

Those flashes of coherence made him feel like he was forgetting something. He had been doing something important before this all began. There was something about school, but he couldn't remember what it could have been. And did he even go to school? He struggled to bring the image of the building into his head. There was only darkness, his visual imagination completely failing to function as he got zapped with bursts of pleasure from the growing presence in his belly. He couldn't remember where he was, nor how he'd become the alien's breeder in the first place. His entire language was gone from his mind, along with the important memories that might have told him who he was. What did he do? What had he ever done? Maybe this had always been him, caught there in the gripping tendrils, blindly feeling his belly stretching until it felt like he could pop.

Such a thing never came to pass. He knew it wouldn't. Quill wasn't going to hurt him, and he'd never let anything bad happen to him. Not now, and not again. That, he could still think about. Instead of bursting or experiencing some sort of traumatic birth, it was all pleasure. The pressure in his belly led to a similar feeling in his balls. They were already fattened by the load shot into them, and they were only getting bigger, gathering power and pressure while he prepared to shoot harder than he ever had. Maybe harder than anyone ever had. He bit his lip hard enough to hurt, then just let his jaw fall open, a near soundless scream rasping from him as his cock grew to twice its former size, inflating outwards with the load that was working through it. The rounded bulge in his pregnant belly began to shrink right back down again as he blasted off, painting the ceiling white to contrast all the inky black elsewhere, bringing their breeding to a climax in one massive, soul-touching cumshot that seemed to go on forever, a neverending peak that became his purpose. He existed to cum for Quill, endlessly oozing, thinking of nothing but the pleasure until it finally grew fainter once more as he trickled and dry-fired a few last times.

Yet even after cumming more than most people did in their entire lives, he didn't soften. He was still constantly buzzed by those stimulating shocks to the brain, his pleasure centres enduring a constant assault, yet never burning out. The cum dribbled from the ceiling in hefty gobs, splatting upon the slime-coated floor, eventually forming a white puddle that endured untouched, pushing the surrounding inky mess away. It stretched wider, grew thicker, and for a while it began to bubble. Just as before, something began to rise from it, a living figure but featureless, but this one wasn't as muscular as Quill. It was instead slimmer, curvy, and overall feminine. A mess of goop over its head fell down to its shoulders, crudely resembling hair, and some smooth protrusions wriggled and lashed like tentacles atop its head. It wasn't quite there yet, but it was shaped a little like a deer, but even looking directly at it, and even Cherno's shattered consciousness recognized its build as familiar. It was trying to be him.

Such a pursuit wasn't yet successful, given it was still a smooth, white figure made entirely of oozing cream. It was still featureless and faceless, yet he could still feel it looking at him anyway, as if there were eyes concealed beneath the glossy surface. Its face was pointed towards his, at least. He was still smiling, still drooling, panting heavily but never feeling like he was out of breath. The figure began to imitate his own rapid breath in time, breaking its silence by making some sort of distorted breathy noise. It wasn't quite right, sounding more like it was being done in reverse, the pearly thing shudder violently as the motion rattled its entire body. Such a violent seizure caused several pieces of itself to fall free, gobs of cum detaching and splatting down to the floor below, but those gaps regrew in time with a series of noisy splorches.

"You won't have to worry about anything now, Cherno. He will make sure you're not neglecting anything, or anyone." Quill pulled the deer closer to his chest, his long tongue wrapping slowly around his antlers, working down to encircle his throat. "No one will know you are with me, part of me, happy and unburdened. No more stress, no more worries, no more need to do anything at all but relax."

His voice was soothing ambrosia in Cherno's ears. He wasn't entirely certain what those words actually meant anymore, but they sounded good to him. Each one was spoken with such gentle care that it was like an aural massage, and he knew that he was safe. Quill would take care of him. Everything was going to be fine, for good. Every touch was ecstasy, layering additional pleasure atop his already overcharged brain, forcing a little more of his self and his consciousness out. It wasn't deleted or destroyed, simply arranged, pushed down into the cellar of his mind as the pleasure took priority. The less and less Cherno's own brain functioned, his self and memories overwritten by simple delight, by concentrated heaven, the more distinct the cum-figure before him became. Those wriggling tentacles formed into proper antlers. The stark white started to shift into a muted version of his fur. And a pair of colourless eyes blinked open through the cream.

"That must feel better. Give me your mind, and I will take good care of it for you," Quill said to him, and it was a little less calm than before. There was hunger in those syllables, an intense craving for more. Cherno knew because he could feel it too, joining with the creature's thoughts, at least to some extent. Sharing in such an intense need only made it all the more exciting to find his head slipping snugly between Quill's sharp teeth as they framed his limited vision.

They were less deadly than they initially appeared, or perhaps Quill simply was in precise control of the pressure he applied. Even with those intimidating chompers, the kneading nibbles he gave Cherno were gentle and sooth, teeth working down his throat and to his chest as he slipped his whole head, antlers and all, into his slimy maw. He wasn't swallowing anything but his own saliva, or whatever gooey substance was oozing so thoroughly down the deer's chest and back as he held him there. Instead of eating him, he was merely tasting, working his tongue all around, smearing, stroking, and then finally sucking. Cherno felt the monster's lips sealing around his throat, trapping him in the inky darkness, surrounded by air that smelled of all his favourite things, and he could do little else but enjoy the sensations of being treated like a living lollipop, slurped and suckled hard by Quill's barely-restrained ravenousness.

Quill's voice seemed to project directly into his mind at that point, a rumbling sensation that imbued meaning rather than a spoken sound.

"I have been wanting this, too. A mere glance, and I could not help but imagine how much pleasure it would bring me to eat you. It would have been easy to simply absorb you, but I knew for certain that I desired to swallow you. You are such a sensuous feast. And you will be even more delightful to digest, whole and blissful. It won't hurt for even a moment, that I promise."

All was dark, but for the flashes of memories that ran inexplicably through his head. He saw moments of his life, important events that taught him how to be who he was. Successes, surprises, mistakes, embarrassments. Good and bad, they were all there in his head, and then they were gone. Quill continued slurping, slathering him in sticky goo while he juicily sucked upon his entire head, and the longer he sampled his flavour, the less there remained of Cherno. He felt no grief as those memories faded away completely. He didn't need them anymore. They were relics of a past existence, of a life before meeting the comforting alien, and Quill didn't even leave any gaps. Where there might have been an important memory before, there was only that enduring ecstasy, that recurring jolt of pleasure that never grew weaker. It was a singularly fulfilling sensation, the feeling he'd spent his whole life pursuing for a mere glimpse of it, and there it was, pure and endless. There was no need for anything else.

Quill spoke just fine, even with his mouth full. He didn't need to move his lips after all. His voice took on its most soothing tone yet, calling to mind great empty halls and burning incense, silent mountaintops, peaceful valleys, the most peaceful places on the planet as he all but singing directly into Cherno's ears.

"You needed this. You earned this. You deserve this."

Without pause, the buck repeated those words back to him, feeling as if he fully grasped their meaning even when all other language had faded from his mind.

"I needed this. I earned this. I deserve this."

And then he said them again, and again. They became his mantra. Even muffled in the slick confines of the alien's throat, he didn't stop chanting it. The words felt good in his mouth, but not as good as the massage of those rippling swallows. It wasn't like a regular gullet. There was far too much motion, a constantly shifting, slimy squeeze that pushed the bulge of buck down towards the inkbeast's firm chest. He slid smoothly over the tips of those many teeth, feeling them stroking and combing along his stained fur, giving him a fine backscratch as he descended, dazed and mesmerized by pleasure, the very act of being swallowed whole feeling like the greatest indulgence he'd ever allowed himself. But it was okay. He had worked hard for this break.

Cherno's body wasn't quite limp as he was gobbled down, spritzes of slime flinging off from the creature's drenched maw. He was more just unresponsive, hardly even squirming, his muscles shut off as he remained caught up in his overstimulated state. It didn't count as being eaten, anyway. He was simply joining with the kindly caretaker, neither giving in nor submitting to the process. Quill was giving him exactly what he wanted, what he needed, and the deeper he went, the better he felt. He was confined tightly by those constricting walls, surrounded by all manner of juicy noise, but none of it was ever frightening. Even finding his head pushing into the stretching confines of what might have been a stomach wasn't cause for any concern. The walls were smooth and they compressed him in ways that brought relief to muscles that already felt completely free of tightness and tension, allowing him to ascend to a whole new level of serenity.

His hooves clacked faintly against Quill's teeth as the creature gave them a nibble. His tongue was shoving there between Cherno's thighs, pressing to his taint once more, serving as a spot to shove him inwards for the final gulp. While those exotic innards might not have worked quite like normal, they still made for a deep, long swallow, squeezing in from all angles, massaging the deer's body all the way down to the deepest depths. They were completely dark at first, surrounding him in murky slime as it poured down upon him thicker and heavier than before. Things didn't stay that way for too long. He opened his eyes again once he sensed light upon his face, finding he could look directly through Quill's now translucent, bulging belly, and at his own imperfect copy standing there, watching him.

The other Cherno leaned in close, tipping his head back and forth, looking curious or confused. It was hard to tell with his facial features only partly formed, his mouth a mere line across his face, a crude imitation of Cherno's own. His hands were still dripping long, gooey strands as he raised them, planting them directly on Quill's gut, where the original buck remained trapped. He soaked in the attention, feeling the rubs coming from the other deer and the alien alike, several new, small pairs of hands growing from his bulky mass just to ensure nearly no part of the deer remained unrubbed. He was surrounded by heavy, gurgling noise, sounding less like digestion and more like a large, industrial drain.

It was all sluicing away, swirling all around him as he softened, and even after all he had experienced, it was the most intense of all. There was nothing caustic about the process of digesting within the xeno's belly. The temperature was just right, warm and calming but never stifling. Every part of him that melted away felt so much better, be it his fingers, softening down to gooey nothing one by one, or his legs, growing numb and liquefied as he became one with the soothing beast. He didn't need any of that. A body wasn't important anymore. All he needed was to exist inside the kind monster, and be treated to a constant, blurring dose of pleasure. He was being pampered even as he was absorbed, little by little, thinking of nothing else but the moment, and the stimulation that never grew any duller. Every moment was like the first, a constant climax in his brain that kept him from ever forming any thought but blanked-out happiness.

As he melted, the copy grew more refined. It remained imperfect for a long while, taking on Cherno's shape and colours, his facial features, everything that should have made it look like him, but something still wasn't right. The double might have been a slim and curvy buck, with everything that someone would have used to describe him, but there were still refinements to make. Everything fell into place a little more as the original was stripped clean, falling down to little more than bare bones as his flesh was painlessly dissolved into goo and slime. A little tweak here, a slight change in the look in the double's eyes, and it was closer and closer, until Cherno found his own vision fading. He was left looking into his own eyes in those final moments, and just before all was dark, he couldn't help but think, yes, that was perfect. That was his own self staring back at him, an exact copy. The thought was gone as soon as it formed, left with no time to sit around in his head before it was sucked out of him along with everything else.

He wasn't dead. Far from it. His body might have been gone, absorbed and distributed indistinctly among the slime that was Quill, but his consciousness remained. Or at least, some semblance of it did. Everything else was gone. He was devoid of memories, of self, of anything but the moment. His sense of time was gone. There was only his new eternity, spent as part of the exotic creature, bombarded by that numbing jolt. He was nothing but an entity, soaking like a sponge in concentrated pleasure, his very existence nothing but uninterrupted pleasure. And that was how he would stay. Whenever a thought began to occur to him, a consideration for his situation or an attempt to recall something already long gone, it vanished just as quickly. Quill drank from him, leeched from, consuming not just his identity itself, but every idea, every original notion his remaining consciousness tried to have, ensuring he could never be anything more than null. A sweet nothing, happy forever, never needing to worry again.

There were others there too. Where exactly they were in relation to himself was irrelevant. He could feel them, connected to him, and he shared in their bliss just as he did their forming thoughts before they were harvested by their host. He saw a painted canvas, awash with beautiful colours and shapes, images that might have made him cry if he still had the physical form to do so. They were soon gone, but he was happier for having seen them in his mind. And when they vanished, he felt a wave of relief, knowing he never had to create them himself, that the pressure of such an idea was gone. Someone else would do the work for him. There were other things too, coming from all the other minds around him. He heard hints of music, pictured verses of prose or poetry, even found himself considering and understanding complex lines of code. They were all such great ideas, formed by unburdened, joyous minds, and when they vanished, devoured and absorbed, more kept coming. It was endless, and it was euphoric, in every moment.

Quill returned as he came, losing that distinct form and becoming liquid as before, descending into the puddle of himself. As he did, he left behind a clattering skeleton, stained inky black as it fell to the floor, the only remnant of what had been the first Cherno. And even that wasn't going to last forever, already softening, trickling down and slowly melting like the rest of him had already. It would take some time, but it would be gone too, leaving the only trace of the original him as that buried, beatifically broken mind, never to form an uneaten thought of his own again. He would never leave that happy place, because he would never even think of doing so. He couldn't possibly have imagined any other form of existence bringing him more satisfaction.

As for the other Cherno, he carried on the consciousness of the original with hardly a moment of interruption. He looked down at his hands, turning them this way and that, and then at his bedroom. It was like waking from the most glorious nap he ever had, his fatigue completely banished, the weight of burdens and worries completely lifted from his mind. A look at the clock told him it had only been a few minutes. That was surely impossible, unless it was nothing more than a dream. A simple glance at his surroundings ruled out that possibility, given the thorough ink-stains that stretched from wall to wall, and the slowly melting, gooey skeleton sprawled there in the middle of the room where the dark puddle had vanished into the floor. Time was simply different around Quill. It was nothing more than a short break, a little breather, and as far as he could tell he was the same person he was before. He remembered all the pleasure, he remembered being swallowed whole, and even digesting. Then he was standing there, watching the last traces of his old body being gooped and melted from his bones. There was no reason for him to believe he wasn't the same person he'd always been, transferred into a replacement body, aside from feeling so much better than before.

The only visible difference was a mark. He hadn't noticed it until then. Reaching down, he laid his fingers upon the inky stain upon his fur, finding it stayed the same even as he rubbed at it, as good as a tattoo or brand. The symbol had no meaning to him, not from any language he recognized, but when he touched it he felt a subtle tingle that reminded him of his delicious time immersed in Quill. It was his mark upon him, a little memory to remind him of his presence. Or maybe it was the ink monster himself, or part of him, still observing him, watching out for him, keeping him from falling back into his previous clouded ways. It felt better just to know that they were bonded now, however bonding with an alien might have worked.

The ink marking down his bedroom was drying. It was going to stain, but he didn't mind it. He'd consider it a paint job. There was nothing more to do than climb back into bed, and curl up with his textbook as before. It made so much more sense now. A glance at the information and he had it memorized, grasping concepts he had been struggling with mere minutes ago. He was flipping through the pages, speed-reading, and none of it was a strain. The stress of anticipation was gone, replaced instead by calm confidence that he would ace tomorrow's test. Even when he closed the book, he found himself able to recall it from memory, reciting entire passages out loud, then murmuring an explanation of each idea, putting them into his own words. It was the potential he always knew he had, that perfected self he had been grasping at, and all it took was a little rest to rejuvenate him and make everything so much easier. It was important to take care of himself. That was what they always said.

Thinking about how well he had done, how much work he'd already put in that evening left him with a buzzing sense of satisfaction. It wasn't just internal, either. That tattoo on his chest was tingling, filling him with a richly pleasurable feeling that swam warmly through his body. It might not have been as intense as before, but it was a delightful remnant of his previous mind-breaking experience. Quill was still with him in one way or another, still connected to him, and by the glowing feeling radiating out from the mysterious mark upon his body, he could tell that he was proud of him for conquering his task. He felt like he could do anything, with that kind of motivation.

It was snowing a little outside his bedroom window. He hadn't noticed before, but he was stricken by the beauty of the natural sight. The flakes were hardly falling, appearing to be just floating there in the air before him, taking their time descending. He found himself able to take in the details of each one before they fell to the ground, his mind barely affected by processing all that visual stimuli as he admired every single individual snowflake as they went by. Everything was moving so much slower. Time itself was dragging, but not in a bad way. Where before he had felt panicked by the ticking clock, now it was a comfort. There was so much he could pack into a single minute, so much he could learn, so much he could accomplish without tiring himself out now. That meant there was more than enough time to simply stand gazing out the window, appreciating his surroundings, reflecting on all that was good in his life.

He ceased the staring when a sudden urge struck him. The thought formed brightly in his head: he didn't have enough. Even after that flood of information, he needed more, needed to keep learning. Putting aside his books, he instead opened his laptop and went swiftly delving into everything he could find on the subject. He consumed encyclopedia pages, scientific studies, news articles and discussions. Every thought was useful to him, to help him form a complete and thorough picture from every possible angle. His body felt no need for rest, not until he had learned as much as he could hold in his newly renovated mind. He found himself excited to show his instructors what he could do now. If they wondered how he'd managed to show such improvement overnight, he'd be happy to share his secret. A short break to clear his mind was all he needed. After all, he deserved it, and they probably did too.